


A Trial with No End

by orphan_account



Series: Among the Stars [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Drugging, M/M, Reverse Petstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave returns to Dirk in less than ideal condition.</p><p>Dirk finds out the hard way that the empire doesn't run like Equius's ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trial with No End

It was hard to let him go.

They had only just brought him to you, after all; you had only just met the only other Strider to ever make it this far in the galaxy. You had all of two nights with him before his cohort of jadebloods were taking him back aboard their ship, with insulting coos and promises that they’d bring him back to play with you more.

The incident was just something you’d had to endure. If they’d been members of Equius’s own crew, they would have been severely disciplined for talking to you like that. But they weren’t, they were breeder nurses, and outsiders, and you’d had to bite your tongue and pretend the collar around your neck wasn’t for anything other than decoration.

But it would be worth it, you’d told yourself. It would be worth it because you’d see him again.

That was what cooperation could buy. You’d learned that before you’d been handed over to Equius. Fighting against the system was only valuable if you had someone who gave a shit as to whether or not you won. Equius gives a shit about you. He gives a shit about all animals, actually, and it’s to your advantage that he sees anything not troll as an animal. For all his annoying habits, for all the times he’s droned on about proper behavior, for all the times his sweat has practically drenched you while fucking, he cares. And if he cares, his crew cares. It’s just hard to remember that your ship isn’t the summation of existence.

Maybe the worst part of all of it is that. Maybe it’s the blindness you have to what’s happening to him, to Dave, aboard the other ship. Even if they’re flying concurrently, so close that all they have to do is extend an official dock, you wouldn’t be able to hear if he was hurt. You can’t see him, don’t know anything that’s going on. All you know is from Equius, whose said they’re still debating over letting the two of you link up for a video chat. His nurses think it might upset him.

You don’t hold your tongue around Equius. You tell him what a crock of shit it is. And while he agrees with you, you know it won’t get through to the jadebloods. He’s too aware of all the backbiting bullshittery that goes on between trolls, and he’s too well bred to engage in it below his own class.

Instead, he invites them back. And predictably, after a few nights of flirtatious dithering, they accept his call, another chance to be admired by a ship full of bluebloods who can’t quite get over their idealized features, their exotic levels of patience, the soothing tones of their voices, expertly trained to keep humans in their care well under control.

They’re sickening to you. It’s alright though, they’re not here for you, and they let you zip between flocks of them without batting an eyelash, not minding you anymore than they’d mind a stray mewbeast.

He’s in the same room as last time, and you make your way there in record time, trying to shake off the feeling it will be like those long weeks in between. The nights you would find yourself wandering back to it, back to the tiny space with the single bed, otherwise unfurnished. The nights you would lie down there and try to smell his scent from the mattress, try desperately to feel some sort of impression from him.

“Dave?” you ask, and your voice sounds pathetically hopeful to you as much this time as it did the last, despite the fact that you know he’s there.

But he doesn’t answer you. He doesn’t even look up for you. Your glasses adjust to the darkness of the room, letting you see him in the dark, curled in on himself in the corner of the bed. Like an animal, you think, like an actual animal, and you move very slowly when you make your way towards him. “Dave?”

The only response you get is a gasp, and a flinch, and he rams himself hard away from your touch, like he wasn’t expecting it. But it only lasts for about half a second before you see his muscles go lax, shuddering like they can’t help it. His hard breathing slows with a manual kind of efficiency.

“They fucking tranquilized you?” you ask, and he doesn’t respond. His eyes look past you, and it fucking hurts. “What the hell happened? Dave. C’mon, man, answer me. Please?”

He does not. You only see his mouth press thin, the nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Your fingertips touch his cheek, and he winces, but not from pain. Not from physical pain, anyway, and Hal puts it into words before you can; ‘HALLUCINATION’ superimposes itself on the lenses of your glasses, and you frown at them.

“I’m _real_ ,” you tell him, gentle. Gentler than those simpering jadebloods. Gentler than even Roxy, when she’s trying to soothe you. He shivers as your fingers run through his hair. “I swear I am. Look, I… A hallucination wouldn’t make you experience something you don’t even know, would it? Here, I got this for you.”

Admittedly, you don’t even know if it’s a good idea anymore. The way Dave reacted to the taste of plain bread the last time you two were together was enough to make you have a serious concern for overwhelming him. But it’s the best shot you have right now, so you fucking take it.

You crack open the plastic bottle you’ve brought with you, and hold it up to his nose for him to smell. Something in his eyes clicks at that, like you can see the gears falling back in to place. You press your thumb between his lips, and he opens them, and you tip back the bottle.

His face is almost funny enough to lighten the moment; if this were some wriggler’s morning-time tale, this is where the spell would break, and everything would be fine again. But it isn’t. It isn’t a story of magic and hope, and Dave’s expression is only a fleeting happiness, his puckered mouth and drawn in brows only there for a moment before they start to smooth out again. You’re not having any of that noise – you tip it forward again and give him another sip.

Slowly, his hands come up. They don’t seize the bottle from your hand, they just… Wrap around your grip, carefully, as if to hold you there. As if to make sure you can’t go away. He tips the bottle forward himself this time, wincing a little but letting it roll around on his tongue. Liquid is apparently more easy for him to register than solids, you’ll have to remember that, you think, trying to distract yourself from the way his body is shivering, wanting to relax under the influence of the drugs in his system.

Your fingers are long, but your hands are strong and solid. His fingers are long, but they feel like you could break them if you flexed out. You wonder if this is what Equius feels like all the time, an immense capacity for destruction of the fragile world around him. You bet so.

“I should go get someone –“ you start to say, but Dave upsets your whole dynamic. Those frail hands reach out for you, grip your shirt and tug desperately. He shakes his head from side to side, and you finally get that he’s not choosing to be silent, he can’t fucking talk. Something in your stomach goes cold as you wonder whether or not that was something they did to him, too.

You bet it is, one way or another.

“Okay. Chill man, I’ll… I’m gonna stay right here, okay. We’re cool.” Dave only relaxes a little at that, but he doesn’t jump or start when you climb onto the bed. He lets you wrap around his body, your long limbs twisted up in his, laying half over him like it will somehow guard him from the rest of the universe. You pretend that’s it, pretend you’re not protecting the brood you can feel in his gut, too.

You hold him until his breaths come quieter, longer. Until yours follow suit.

Until sleep finds you both.

-

“Dave.”

The word isn’t a question, and the voice isn’t familiar to you – you’re bolt upright, between Dave and this new intruder before your eyes can even adjust to the screens in front of them. A troll, Karkat, you remember. You’d remember him for his height, if nothing else, the smallest troll you’ve ever laid eyes on. Still big enough to crack your head open with one good squeeze.

Dave is drowsy behind you, his head muddled with the after effects of the drug. How opportune that a syringe should be in this troll’s hand, right now? How fucking ideal, you think, only Karat says “Dave” again, and you can hear his breath still before it starts to speed up. You can feel the way he’s trying not to panic.

“I don’t have time for this. If you want to stay with your shitty little play date, we can’t have you going wilder than a fluff-tailed nutbeast. Get over here – Holy shit, move.” He growls at you, low in his throat, but you stand your ground.

“Back off,” you tell him, too angry to care about whether or not he can hear you. Too angry to remember that’s dangerous, until he’s looking at you with this stupid, shocked expression.

“What the fuck?” Karkat says, and you have just enough time to knock the syringe out of his hand, to throw it to shatter against one of the metal walls. You’re breathing hard, and it has nothing to do with exertion. Your body is full to the brim with hatred for him, for everything he represents. For how Dave’s cheeks flushed with colour the last time you saw him, when he talked about his own life.

“What the fuck, indeed. What are you panfucked shitheads trying to do to him? He’s terrified.”

There’s no point in fear, not even as he narrows his eyes and bears his teeth at you. Anger is far more useful, and you use it to puff your chest up, to keep a barrier between Dave and this fucking thing, this godawful abomination of the empire.

“I don’t know who the hell authorized that device, but let’s get something straight – you’d have to be shithive maggots if you think that you have any authority in what Dave needs. Especially since it was contact with you that fucked him up, you subprime primate,” he hisses back, ears flattening to his head. He pushes you, and your body wobbles, despite your strength.

“I didn’t do shit to him other than show him he deserved a little respect,” you bite back, bitter, and Karkat laughs in your face, hard and without any trace of humour.

“Oh, yeah, I bet. I bet that’s why he was calling out your name and waking up screaming. _Great job,_ ten gold stars for you, making everyone’s job harder. He probably could have lasted another couple sweeps before he started to deal with that shit. But no, he had to meet you,” Karkat says, and you freeze up for a moment, eyes wide behind your glasses. You’re glad he can’t see them.

“What?” you ask, and you sound lost to yourself. You feel lost. Karkat raises his brows, arms crossed.

“All humans deal with this, okay? It’s why we have enough sedatives to down the Church’s flagship if we really needed to. So why don’t you piss off and let me do my job, instead of making things worse.”

He tries to push you aside. Without even thinking, you’re swinging your fist out. You clip him pretty good across the jaw, get in another swing to his ribs before he catches you, dangles you up by your arm. He growls, and it’s loud this time, loud enough to make your whole head ring around with it a couple times before you realize you need to talk. He needs to fucking understand.

 “All humans don’t. We don’t break down and we don’t die at twenty sweeps and we don’t like isolation. We aren’t made to be convenient for you fuckwads to ship and breed and fuck and torture. We aren’t supposed to eat one goddamn thing a night and we aren’t supposed to be without each other. We’re supposed to be together. Couldn’t you tell he just wanted comfort?” You struggle in his grip.

“Shut up,” Karkat growls.

“He only just realized how awful being alone was –“

“ _Shut up_!” he yells.

“All he needed was someone to help him through it. But nobody did. Not even _you_ –“

He shakes you, so hard that you hear your neck and spine pop, despite how stiffly you’re trying to hold them together. He rips your socket out of joint and the thing is, you don’t even think he meant to. You can see his eyes, narrow slits, and he only stops shaking you to slip his fingers around your collar.

“I think we’ve had enough talking from you.”

Your stomach lurches as you feel the metal hinges torn from your throat. It hurts, but it hurts more seeing it pop and fizzle, seeing the wires hang out of it like the entrails of some gutted animal. You can’t breathe. You told yourself you would stop feeling fear sweeps ago, but there’s something about the cruel violation of it that finally makes it click.

He doesn’t give a shit about you. He doesn’t care if you can talk. You’re just an animal to him, even if you’re not dumb like all the rest.

Human beings can be put down for aggression, your mind helpfully supplies. Your whole crew could be culled for letting you talk with that device. You feel dread, awful and solid and halfway down your esophagus as he throws you to the floor. He’s too lost in the moment to care if some highblood will be pissed he hurt their pet.

You wince, hear him hit something solid. You wince, but the blow doesn’t come down on you.

Dave lurches for a second, coughing. Something is spilling on the floor, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s purple, to realize it’s streaming down the pale legs the crumple onto the floor. Your body freezes up in horror as you watch him convulse, watch his features twisted with agony. You watch the first egg casing break from his body, the first ruined grub spill out onto the floor before the horror of it hits you fully, and all you can do is watch.

Watch Karkat pick him up, the selfsame horror on his own face.  You pretend you don’t see the same concern in it for Dave, for Dave first as he holds him, cradles his small body with an unspoken terror, as if he’s the one bruised and beaten and powerless on the floor.

You watch them disappear into the corridor, and can’t stop your eyes from tearing up, with no one left to see them.

It’s hard to let him go.

It’s harder to love him.                                                      


End file.
